


it is most mad and moonly

by This Girl Is (non_sequential)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Pining, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/pseuds/This%20Girl%20Is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two years Arthur and Gwen have a good marriage and relatively stable Kingdom, as these things go. They just can’t help but wonder if things couldn’t be <i>better</i>…</p>
            </blockquote>





	it is most mad and moonly

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the the Merlin Canonfest on LJ, for the prompt: A happily married Arthur and Gwen can't seem to keep their hands off their beleaguered Court Sorcerer whenever he exercises his authority/power/command. The Knights aren't much help either as they hinder, or enable this madness on a whim.. 
> 
> Many thanks to Ships_Harry and Tari_Sue for whipping this into shape – it is so much better for your work. More thanks and sparkles to for her modly patience when my quick bit of porn turned into 13,000+ words of pining and dragged me long past deadline. Title from E.E. Cummings’ [’love is more thicker than forget’](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/11427).

It was one of those banquets that had to be held more or less for the sake of having a banquet. The sort of thing Gwen had to talk him into, using phrases like 'appeasing the Court', and 'keeping an eye out for trouble'. He knew he needed to monitor the power games his nobles played, but it was a necessity he loathed as much as the green things Gwen and Merlin were always piling onto his plate.

At least he only had to fend off Gwen’s vegetative advances tonight as Merlin had, with his usual cavalier disregard for protocol, sat with the Knights at the lower tables. 

There didn't seem to be anything unusual happening. Sir Reynaud and Lord Bertrand were fighting over a border, but it was a dispute that Uther had ruled on some ten years before. Arthur had, when they tried to appeal to him, simply re-iterated his father's judgement. It seemed, these days, to be a comfortable and well-worn squabble between old men. Lord Hywel was parading his daughter about the younger set, trying to find an advantageous match. He'd have done better to wait until she'd outgrown the unfortunate tendency towards acne, in Arthur's opinion, but he'd done the decent thing and spoken kindly to her in the courtyard. She seemed like a nice girl, if a bit overwhelmed. At least she hadn't simpered at him. 

The steward, who collected gossip for him from the servants – a measure he had taken when he realised how much Gwen and Merlin knew about the goings-on of the Court – had suggested something was amiss with Sir Cuthbert but could offer nothing more substantive than a sense from one of the maids that 'something weren't right with his Lordship'. 

It was this, though, that meant he was watching when Sir Cuthbert leapt from the banquet table to hurl his knife dead at Merlin's chest. 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried out as Merlin tumbled backwards off his bench and out of Arthur's sight. Arthur leapt up, his thighs hitting the High Table that stood between him and what was going on at the lower tables, too far to do anything. He was vaguely aware of Gwen beside him, also on her feet.

“Enough!” Cuthbert cried, pouncing after Merlin with another long knife drawn. “Enough of this foul creature seducing our King with his dark powers!”

For a moment Arthur didn't breathe. The entire world seemed to pause. And then Cuthbert flew backwards before being jerked into the air. 

“Fools! Blind fools! Where will it end?” he demanded, struggling against the invisible hold of Merlin’s magic. “Our King, the ruler of our land, is bewitched, ensorcelled, and you laugh and jest with the one responsible.” 

“Thank you, Sir Cuthbert, for your concern,” Arthur ground out, staring at the man to avoid frantically trying to check whether Merlin was all right. Gwaine was with him, and however unreliable Gwaine may be in matters of the heart or purse, he could be relied on to look after Merlin. “But I assure you, I remain unseduced.” He tried not to flush at the thoughts that ran through his mind with the ideas of ‘Merlin’ and ‘seduction’ in the same breath.

The guards finally recovered from their shock. Arthur would have to make sure Leon did something about that. Camelot couldn’t afford to have guards who couldn’t deal with a surprise attack, even one from within the Court. 

Gwaine hauled Merlin to his feet, and Merlin let the man down into the waiting arms of the guards. Merlin glanced around in the hall in that wide-eyed way of his. “I’m all right!”

As the guards dragged Sir Cuthbert off to the dungeons, Arthur shared a glance with Gwen, who was biting her lip and looked slightly flushed. He had a suspicion he did as well, despite his efforts, and raised his goblet to his mouth to give himself a moment to recover. He put his other hand over Gwen’s. Thank god he wasn’t alone in this ridiculous _whatever it was_.

When he thought about it, he knew it could look bad from the outside. The King with a penchant for servants; the Queen with a penchant for powerful men. He had no idea what Merlin had a penchant for, but he dearly wished to find out. 

He schooled his features to blankness apart from a raised eyebrow as Merlin looked over to him. Most of the people in the hall would see it as chiding. Merlin, with the intimate knowledge of another that comes of years of constant proximity, rolled his eyes and mouthed, “I’m _fine_ ”. So he probably wasn’t about to drop dead, but Arthur would insist after the feast that he be checked by Gaius. Even a scratch could be disastrous if it was made by a poisoned blade. He hated to suspect Sir Cuthbert of such base treachery, but he’d learnt over the years not to underestimate the members of his court.

He would have to call a Council session tomorrow. He thought he’d made it clear that he had repealed the laws against magic of his own volition and that attacks on Merlin, as Court Sorcerer, would not be tolerated. Apparently not. An impending headache overwhelmed the wash of arousal that always flooded him when Merlin, cheerful, self-effacing, bleeding-heart Merlin, publicly brandished the power he had always wielded secretly. 

Gwen squeezed his hand, and he wondered which of his predicaments she was comforting him over. Probably both, actually. Thank God he’d got his act together and married her. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. 

Dessert dragged interminably. He watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye; he seemed well enough as he laughed it off and reassured the knights who went to check on him. Elyan was quietly persistent about something, but Merlin just waved a hand in Arthur’s direction and finished off his goblet of wine. Arthur scowled into his baked custard as Gwaine rested one hand on Merlin’s shoulder and topped up the goblet with the other. 

“Shall we retire?” Gwen asked. “I think Gaius should take a look at Merlin, just to be on the safe side.”

Arthur tried to look as though he hadn’t been stabbing his custard with the spoon. “Yes,” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “That’s an excellent idea.”

The court stood and bowed as they left their table. Arthur caught Merlin’s eye again, and jerked his head minutely towards the door. 

Merlin made his ‘Outraged’ face and waggled his just-filled goblet. 

Arthur frowned at him and Merlin scowled before taking a long drink from his goblet, although thankfully not draining it all, as evidenced by the slosh of the remainder onto the table when he thumped it down. He stood as Arthur and Gwen walked towards him, but paused when Gwaine grabbed his sleeve. Gwaine was wearing his trouble-making grin, the particularly lewd one, as he muttered something that made Merlin flush bright red to the tips of his ears. 

He fell in behind them as they passed, radiating sullen resentment as they all left the hall. To this day Arthur had no idea how someone who broadcast every emotion so clearly had managed to keep his magic secret for years. 

As they moved beyond hearing range of the guards, Merlin strode forward to walk with them, instead of the pseudo-respectful two paces behind he'd adopted after being appointed Court Sorcerer. Arthur had been startled to discover that Merlin _could_ at least pretend to have respect and discretion when he chose. He'd been even more startled to realise that he didn't actually like it. 

“Honestly,” Merlin grumbled. “He didn't touch me. Stop fussing.”

“Merlin,” Gwen said, far more gently than Arthur had been going to, “We're just concerned, especially after that nasty incident with the poisoned knife. And you always say you're fine, even when you're all but bleeding to death. So we're going to visit Gaius, and just get him to check that there will be no near-death experiences today.”

Gaius was mostly retired these days, but neither he nor Arthur entirely trusted Merlin to anyone else. Arthur usually tried not to think too much about what it meant that he was as solicitous of Merlin as was Gaius, who loved Merlin like a son.

Merlin gave a put-upon sigh, and probably rolled his eyes, but walked with them obediently. 

“What did Gwaine say as you were leaving?” Arthur asked, partly by way of distracting Merlin from his own compliance, and partly indulging his curiosity – it had been a spectacular blush.

It made a resurgence as Merlin glanced from him to Gwen and then stared fixedly at his own feet. “Nothing. He's not as funny as he likes to think.”

Oh, it must have been _good_. Merlin, however, was clearly not going to share. “I've been trying to tell you that for years, now. If you'd just listened to me in the first place-”

He broke off as Merlin shoved him in the side, and he bumped into Gwen. Gwen, much used to this behaviour simply shoved him back into Merlin. He did his best to ignore how deeply _aware_ he was of Merlin's warmth, and how he felt pressed all along Arthur's side. 

Merlin shoved him back again, still wearing the bright flags of his blush. “Oi,” he said. “So much for all this concern for my supposed injuries!”

“Better safe than racing across the countryside in the middle of the night in search of a cure. Again,” Arthur retorted. “Now come on.”

***

Gaius, at least, appreciated Arthur and Gwen's concern for Merlin. He immediately set about examining him for injuries. Merlin's litany of complaints had reassured them all greatly, but Arthur loathed the feeling of panic that always overtook him when Merlin was in serious peril, and had taken to doing whatever was necessary to prevent it from happening in the first place. And it was not _fussing_ , no matter what Merlin said.

The fact that Gaius commanded Merlin to remove his shirt so that he could check his torso was just an added bonus.

It was only as Merlin removed the shirt, revealing a smattering of hair that was shockingly dark against his pale chest, that Arthur realised that he'd never seen Merlin shirtless before. It was almost like looking at a different person. Arthur had always thought of Merlin as slight, even willowy. He'd always thought of clothes a little like armour – that removing them revealed vulnerabilities. Without his shirt, Merlin looked strong. His shoulders were broad, powerful. His chest and arms were corded with muscle. Not the bulk that the knights had, built up over years of carrying heavy armour and heavy weapons, but the lean strength of hard work. His collarbones were a stark, fragile contrast, as were the scars which painted that pale canvas, some faded and smooth, some still angry and red. He wondered what could have made the near-perfect circle, white and shiny, right over his sternum. 

He was startled back to awareness by Gwen's hand at the small of his back, and he tried to focus on anything in the room that wasn't Merlin's pale strong torso, or his own insane desire to lick the dark line of hair that trailed down from Merlin's navel. 

Gwen's hand slipping down to cup his arse helped. 

Gaius proclaimed Merlin perfectly fit, though not without a hint of relief, and Merlin all but hustled them from the room, struggling back into his shirt as hastily as he could, and thus making a complete pig's ear of it. It was almost a relief to be looking at the Merlin he knew again, all ears and messy hair and too many angles.

Shut out of Gaius' rooms, he and Gwen retired to his chambers.

“Out with it,” she demanded, once George was dismissed and they were safely closed away, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something hotter, fiercer. 

He felt colour rising up his neck, as he considered denying that there was anything to be said. She seemed to delight in making him talk about _feelings_ and the like. Possibly as some kind of vengeance for all the times in the past when he had been a touch less... sensitive than perhaps he should have been. 

He must have hesitated too long. She glided towards him with the feline grace she only ever displayed in private. She pressed herself to his front, soft breasts cushioned against his chest, warm belly pressing against the evidence of his arousal. “Arthur,” she sang in that playful way that meant she had no intention of letting it go, and he may as well give up now. 

She was warm and comforting against him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew in the scent of lavender and spice from her hair. 

“Shoulders,” he muttered at the wardrobe.

She leaned back against his arms, trusting him not to let her fall. “You never noticed?” she asked, widening her eyes in a way that should have looked innocent, but actually made her look deliciously wicked.

He raised his eyebrow at her. “You clearly did, you little hussy.” 

She snorted quietly, presumably over 'hussy', but wouldn't be distracted. Instead she leaned into him again, standing on tiptoe to whisper hotly against his ear, “I always thought they looked like they were made for being clung to. Don't you think?” She undid his belt, letting it drop to the floor, then slid her hands up his back under his shirt. He felt flushed, heat pooling in his groin and spreading across his face. Tomorrow was going to be one of those days when he could barely look Merlin in the eye. 

“Can't you picture it?” She kissed him, her tongue hot, wet and filthy in his mouth, before slipping his shirt off. Walking him backward towards the bed, she returned to his ear. He mouthed soft bites against her shoulder as she murmured, “Lying on your back with your thighs wrapped around Merlin, clinging helplessly to those lovely broad shoulders?”

“Gwen,” he said helplessly. He knew he should feel ashamed. Of desiring another man, of wanting someone who was not his wife, of objectifying someone who was, though he would never ever admit it to his face, his dearest friend. But he didn't. Because he didn't just desire Merlin, damn Gwen and her discussions about feelings, he loved him. He also loved Gwen. He knew that Gwen loved him, and also Merlin. There was no exclusion in this, no one being hurt. And if either of them thought for a minute that Merlin might actually have any wish to join them, they would give him anything he wanted, and gladly. “Gwen,” he repeated. 

He all but lunged at her mouth, moaning as she licked his tongue. She undid the ties on his breeches as he loosened her dress and undergarments and pushed them off her shoulders, down her hips, and he let her tumble him to the bed. He sometimes thought he couldn't possibly live long enough to get complacent about the feel of her soft hot body as she crawled along his own, thighs straddling him, hands, small but firm from years of work, on his belly and chest. 

With one hand he cradled her neck, as he nipped and sucked on her lips, the dark tumble of her hair curtaining their faces, His other hand gently slid down her body, lingering here and there; his thumb stroking back and forth over her peaked brown nipple till she moaned; fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of her arse before stroking slowly up the silken expanse of her back. And then the moans were his, as she shifted her hips to take him in, slick heat surrounding him until he could do little but roll his own hips to meet her thrusts.

After, they curled together, legs entangled. Gwen brushed her mouth against his shoulder, the barest caress. “I wish...”

He kissed her hair. “I know.”

  


Merlin chopped the dockleaves finely, if a touch brutally, relishing the rapid thump of the large knife against the chopping block, then reached for the rosehips, which needed crushing. This was his favourite remedy to make when he was in a temper and needed something to take it out on.

He simply could not understand people, sometimes. What on earth was wrong with them all?

He laid the flat of his knife over some of the rosehips and thumped the ball of his hand down on it, taking satisfaction on the give of the fruit beneath the blade, and the squelching of the skin splitting.

Arthur and Gwen fussed over him like a pair of mother hens, when they weren't busy billing and cooing like doves instead. When had _either_ of them started treating him like he was bloody fragile or something? Nevermind the holding hands and giggling like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. Well, not actually, because if Arthur actually started giggling like a lovestruck teenager Merlin would start looking for counter-spells. Or possibly just throw himself off a tower. But still. He was happy for them both. He was. He just wished they weren’t such obvious mooncalves about it all. How long was the honeymoon period supposed to last? It'd already been two years! 

He scraped the dockleaves and crushed rosehips into a pot with some water and hung it over the fire on one of the higher hooks to steep.

And then there was Gwaine, who insisted on saying every ridiculous and embarrassing thing that entered his head. He was just lucky that Merlin was bloody discreet, that's all. You couldn't go around insinuating things about the King and Queen's bedroom habits to just anyone! Arthur was much less execution-happy than his father, but the headsman hadn't exactly retired, and suggesting unsavoury things about the Queen was a good way to go about getting an appointment with him. 

Not that it was _unsavoury_ exactly, to suggest that Merlin might be a welcome addition to the royal bed, but you couldn't just go around saying things like that. Not when your mates included one of said royals, and the brother of the other one. Oh, who was he kidding? Gwaine wasn't one to let something like that stop him saying anything he liked. 

He did wish Gwaine didn't find it quite so hilarious, though. He knew Gwaine didn’t mean it unkindly and wouldn't, all right _probably_ wouldn't, much, tease Merlin if he knew how close to the bone he was cutting. But he didn't, and Merlin was certainly not telling him about the awkward crush he'd nursed for Gwen when he'd arrived in Camelot alone and clueless, and this beautiful, warm-hearted girl had been kind and friendly towards him. And he would go and be a hermit in the woods before he confided in Gwaine about any feelings for Arthur that weren't frustration or amusement. Fortunately he had plenty of both to cover for… well. Any other kind of _totally inappropriate_ feelings he might have about the happily married King of Camelot's pretty mouth or strong physique or occasional unexpected emotional sensitivity.

He contemplated the green and red stains on his workbench. He ought to scrub it down by hand with warm water and lye. He really should. He glanced at the door, then back at the wooden bench top where the fresh knife cuts were already soaking up the juices. Arthur had tried to give him servants for cleaning his rooms. Unfortunately that had lasted about a week before one of them had got excessively enthusiastic and decided to wash one of his experiments. Thankfully there’d been no permanent – well, no _unfixable_ – damage, but Merlin had had to regretfully ban servants from his quarters. He could just magic the bench clean, of course, but it turned out that magic left a residue which could interact with his experiments in unexpectedly exciting ways. He was really sick of scrubbing though. He glared at the bucket of water and the scrubbing brush. Why couldn’t they just – oh. Why _couldn’t_ they just do it themselves? He waved his hand and grinned in triumph as the water steamed gently and frothed with soap and brush rolled itself in the water then leapt onto the bench, scrubbing its little bristles off. 

The thing was, it wasn't that he couldn't separate Arthur from his role as ruler, but it was naïve to think it didn't matter. Or rather, wouldn't have mattered, had Arthur not been in love with one of Merlin's dearest friends in the first place. And to be fair, Gwen had been in love with Arthur before Merlin had got the hang of… _interpreting_ Arthur – the physical violence, childish insults, and general scorn he used to express affection. Arthur needed a wife and an heir, and it didn’t matter whether it was fair or not, it was how things were. At least he and Gwen were happy. Even if Merlin did occasionally want to throw himself off a tower for how sickening they could be, it satisfied something in his heart to see them together and know that they were happy. 

Now if he could just get a grip and stop pining over the pair of them, the world would be a wonderful place.

Someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. It could only be one of two people. 

“Morning, Merlin!” Gwen said, smiling. 

Arthur had never been remotely interested in minor details like respecting Merlin’s privacy. Gwen used to, but apparently rudeness was catching or something. Maybe it was the crowns. Maybe they were so heavy they damaged the brain somehow. Even walking in on him changing his shirt one evening hadn’t been enough to discourage her. 

It suited her, though, being Queen. She’d always been good at organising things, and getting things done, making things run smoothly, and that hadn’t changed, but she had a confidence now that she’d lacked as a servant. She was more settled somehow. It hadn’t dampened the delight in her eyes when she was amused, or when he did something magic.

He grinned as she stared wide-eyed at the bucket and brush scrubbing away at his workbench, and the rag he hadn’t even meant to enchant dusting the bookshelves. And the jars that he hadn’t even thought about which were lining themselves up neatly on the shelves. Whoops.

“Um, morning!”

“Are you-? Merlin!” She laughed. “You used to complain so much about how hard it was to keep Arthur’s rooms clean!” She walked over to him and leaned against his side as she watched the soapy bubbles froth up in a way they never did normally.

“Well it’s not as if I ever risked my neck doing magic just to keep Arthur’s dust bunnies under control,” he answered, enjoying the companionable warmth of her at his side. “Although I maintain that more sinister things than mere dust make up those horrors under his bed.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “George seems to have them admirably under control,” she teased. 

“Oh, and I suppose you che- Oh, god, you do, don’t you? You actually check under Arthur’s bed to make sure it’s been cleaned properly!”

“Merlin, I’ve seen your idea of housekeeping, and I’ve lived in fear ever since! Of course I check under the bed!”

He gave the only possible response and poked her in the side. 

Which he regretted the moment she narrowed her eyes at him. Fear of retribution washed coldly down his spine as she tilted her head to one side. Suddenly she was on him, deft fingers digging into his side as she tickled his ribs viciously. He slapped at her hands, but she was unstoppable. He tried to protest, but all he could force out around the pained laughter as he squirmed were meaningless monosyllables. 

It was all very hilarious until he realised he was starting to get hard. His struggles became a bit more determined then, but he was already shaking from laughter and exertion. Gwen’s breasts, enhanced magnificently by the cut of her dress, pressed against his chest and he knew he had to do something, _right now_ , or it was all going to end with him hiding under his bed in mortification and never coming out. 

As gently as he could, he used his magic to draw her back against the wall and pin her there, hands stuck to the wall by her head. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying desperately to work out how to explain why he had to cheat so blatantly without _actually_ explaining anything at all. “Sorry, I just had to-“ He stopped. “Gwen?” Her mouth was slightly open as she gasped for breath and the effect on her décolletage was mesmerising. But not nearly as transfixing as the way her pupils had blown wide as she stared at him, eyes raking down his body, taking in his inappropriate erection before settling on his mouth. 

“Um,” was as far as he got before the sound of clanking chain mail heralded the arrival of Arthur’s first knights. By the time Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, and Percy had trooped into his room, Gwen was standing by the wall quietly rubbing her wrists, and Merlin was using a rag to wipe the enormous piles of bubbles that had built up on his workbench while he was distracted. 

Gwaine was grinning more widely than usual as he looked between Merlin and Gwen, but he mercifully kept his tongue still. Elyan looked as though he wished he were anywhere but here. Leon mostly looked confused, and Percy looked stoic as ever. It was generally impossible to know what Percy was thinking. Merlin had the sneaking suspicion that his quiet demeanour actually disguised some keen observation skills and a deep amusement with the world.

“Merlin,” Leon started, “We were going to head for the river, and wondered if you wanted to come along.”

“But we can see you’re busy,” Elyan interjected. “With my sister.” 

Gwaine snorted.

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Elyan said.

“I said nothing!” Gwaine protested. 

“That’s a good plan. You should stick with it. Anyway, Merlin, Gwen, obviously you have… things to do.” Elyan looked a little agonised as he said it. “So we’re just going to…” He grasped a still-baffled looking Leon by the arm and started tugging him back towards the door.

“But-“ Leon objected.

“Come on, Leon,” Gwaine said as he started herding Leon out of the room, Percy following sedately behind. “Let’s leave them to it,” he continued, waggling his eyebrows at Merlin and Gwen in a manner Merlin could only describe as obscenely suggestive.

As they all left, Merlin heard Gwaine say something he couldn’t quite make out, followed by Elyan declaring loudly, “Would you please just stop talking! And no, you do not get to make money from my trauma!” 

The atmosphere left in their wake was deeply awkward. 

“So,” he said, followed profoundly by, “Er.”

“Merlin,” Gwen began. She was still gently stroking her wrist.

“What time’s the council meeting?” he blurted.

Gwen pursed her lips at the change of subject, but replied, “Actually we think you should probably miss this one. Perhaps they’ll realise you aren’t magically controlling him if you’re not even there. Besides which, he’s going to be very rude to them in your defence, and you know how that embarrasses you.”

He hummed a vague assent, and looked around his now sparkling clean room to avoid looking her in the eye. 

Unfortunately that meant he didn’t see her come up beside him until she rested her hand at the small of his back the way he’d seen her do with Arthur a hundred times before. 

“Merlin,” she said gently, but firmly, “I wasn’t going to say anything before, maybe ever. But I think perhaps there’s something we should talk about.”

  


Sometimes Gwen wished George weren’t quite so very good at his job. She wandered nervously around Arthur’s chamber, looking for something to do to occupy her hands, but everything was spotlessly clean, anything that could be polished positively gleamed, and nothing was out of place.

She needlessly rearranged the dinner of cold meats, bread, cheese and fruit she had asked George to leave before dismissing him for the night, then perched in Arthur’s window and watched the torchlit comings and goings in the courtyard below. She was taking a terrible risk with this. It was something they both wanted, something they _all_ wanted, amazingly enough. It was a good starting point, but she honestly didn’t know if they could make it work. Arthur and Merlin had so many years of habitual denial and dismissal between them that it could all still come burning down around them. She thought about that morning, pinned to the wall with such delicacy and care by Merlin’s magic, the sheer unexpected _want_ on his face, and knew they had to try. 

The slight clatter of the guards standing to attention was her only warning before Arthur all but threw the door open and strode in. His mouth had that pinched look that meant the meeting hadn’t gone well, and his eyes were tired. He stripped his jacket off and hurled it in the general direction of the wardrobe, because he still had all the care for his clothes of a spoilt five year old. 

“Difficult meeting?” she asked as he all but collapsed into his chair.

She got up and picked up the jacket as he reached for one of the goblets of wine. He grimaced apologetically at her as she hung it in the wardrobe. 

“They seem to want very badly to convince themselves that I am not actually competent. I’m pretty sure I managed to head it off before it became a coup attempt. Cuthbert’s failed attempt at assassinating Merlin has given them all a bit of a scare, at least. And I don’t think any of the rest were in on it, so I suppose that’s something.” He rubbed the ring on his thumb along his bottom lip. “I think I made it pretty clear that any issues with Merlin were to be taken up directly with me.” He smirked. “They didn’t seem keen to take me up on the offer.”

She sat down at the table and started picking at the dinner platter, trying not to fiddle too obviously. It was probably best to let him talk out his day before raising the subject of Merlin. She tore a piece of bread, put some fresh spinach leaves and cheese on top of it, and handed it to him. He gave her an unimpressed look, but took it and began eating anyway. She drank some of her own wine, put the goblet down, then picked it up and drank again. 

“You’ll need to find someone to take over Cuthbert’s lands,” she said, as she made some spinach and ham into a neat little parcel.

“Mmmm,” Arthur agreed around a mouthful of bread. She took another drink of her wine, then put it down again sharply and started picking at some chicken when he gave the goblet a rather shrewd glance. “I’m almost tempted to award it to Percy or Elyan, but I’m not sure they’d know what to do with it, and I’ve found having a core fighting force whose attention is undivided to be very beneficial.”

She tried to imagine the look on Percy’s face if Arthur were to give him a fief, and giggled. “Oh no, you couldn’t. Can you imagine Percy having to sit over grain production reports? He’d hate it!”

“He would. And no one deserves to have Gwaine as their lord. I’ll have to give it some thought.” 

She smiled, but knew it was that terrible fake smile she always gave when she was nervous. Which she shouldn’t be. She needed not to be. She folded the corner of one of the napkins into a pleat, then smoothed it out again. 

Arthur reached out and placed his hand over hers, stilling it. “All right, come on. What is it?” he asked in the gentle tone reserved almost solely for her. “I assume it has to do with the third goblet?”

She should have known that wouldn’t get past him. He liked to play it down, but he always noticed more than he let on. 

“I…” She suddenly understood Arthur’s tendency to make statements to the furniture. “I asked Merlin,” she announced to the grapes.

He slipped his hand under her chin, and raised her head to meet his eyes. His thumb stroked over her cheek. 

“What did you ask Merlin?”

“No, Arthur. I _asked_ Merlin. This morning.” His eyes shot to the third goblet, then back to her. “He’s coming this evening.”

For a long moment he stared at her, an almost painful mix of hope, longing, and fear in his eyes. 

He jumped to his feet and strode away, the chair almost tipping onto its back before righting itself. He paced across the room, coming to an abrupt halt facing the wall, where he ran a hand through his hair, disordering it. He spun to face her, one hand on his hip, the other still gripping the hair at the back of his head. “He’s coming,” he repeated. “This evening.”

She just nodded.

Anticipation swelled in the silence between them until a knock on the door broke the stillness. 

Arthur just stared at her, so she got up and went to the door. “Who is it?” she asked. 

“Um, it’s, er, it’s me,” came the response. She tipped her head against the door and held back a laugh. How ridiculous they all were. 

She pulled the door open and smiled at Merlin. Not the nervous one, the ‘I’m so pleased to see you’ one.

Merlin’s smile was definitely the nervous one. It stretched all the way across his face, but didn’t touch his eyes at all. 

She reached for his wrist and pulled him gently into the room.

“So, Merlin,” Arthur drawled in his most obnoxious Merlin-baiting voice, “I see you finally mastered the noble art of knocking.”

“Arthur,” she warned. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as insouciant as he could manage. It was totally fake, and on a normal day Merlin would spot it in an instant. But it wasn’t a normal day, and Merlin was thrumming with as much nervous tension as Arthur, and probably too nervous to really look beyond Arthur’s usual swaggering bravado. 

She stroked Merlin’s arm. Not lingering – soothing rather than seductive. “Don’t mind him, you know what he’s like.”

Merlin scowled. “He’s a prat.”

“Exactly.” She kissed his cheek, took his hand, and led him to one of the seats at the table. She waited till he sat then knelt at his feet, and kissed the hand she still held. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll only do what you want, and if you don’t want to, you can go now and we’ll never speak of it again.”

His eyes were wide as he looked down at her. Then he looked over at Arthur and his expression became defiant, challenging. He cradled her jaw in his other hand and leant forward to kiss her. His mouth was as soft and plush as it had always looked. She licked his bottom lip and revelled in his sharp intake of breath. They stayed like that for several moments, poised, just marvelling at the feel of their mouths together. 

It was the sound of Arthur shifting restlessly on the other side of the room that separated them, but slowly, a gentle letting go. She stood, swept her skirts to one side and settled on Merlin’s lap. For a moment he looked startled, then he rested his arm across her thighs. His hand curved around her hip, large and warm and full of promise. 

Merlin glanced nervously over her shoulder. Gwen turned her head to look at Arthur, who was still leaning against the wall, but now more as though he wasn’t quite sure his knees alone could keep him standing. His lips were very red, as though he’d been biting them. 

“Are you going to stay over there all night?” she teased. 

“Hardly,” he snapped back and did his best to saunter over toward the table, but it was more of an awkward strut. He dropped into his chair and reached for one of the goblets. 

Merlin’s hand was twitching against her hip, his fingers clutching and loosening. It would have been nice if he’d been doing it on purpose. She stroked his hair. She’d always thought it looked soft and touchable, and she was right - the silky warmth curled around her fingers. He relaxed minutely, although he still hadn’t actually said anything, which was worryingly out of character for Merlin. 

“Arthur, pour some wine for us,” she said. Arthur scowled but did as he was told without comment. Merlin snickered quietly against her shoulder and relaxed a little more. She leaned over to take the goblet from Arthur, trusting Merlin to counter the shift in weight. She raised her eyebrows at Arthur, who was behaving very sullenly for someone whose fantasy was coming true. He just shrugged one shoulder and took another drink of wine. 

She took a drink from her own goblet, and passed it to Merlin. When she was sure he’d swallowed she said conversationally, “You know, for a while I used to think you two were already sleeping together.”

“What?” squawked Merlin, jerking underneath her thighs and nearly spilling the wine, while Arthur choked and spluttered on the mouthful of wine he’d just taken. 

“What?” she asked, playing innocent. “The way you were always together, even when you didn’t need to be. You don’t even need to have actual conversations half the time. One of you starts saying something, and the other knows exactly what they mean, even if it didn’t make any sense to start with. And you’ve always squabbled like an old married couple.” She took the goblet back from Merlin and took another sip. “It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make.”

“Reasonable-“ Arthur had gone deep red, right across his face and up to his ears. “Guinevere!” He sounded deeply shocked. Given what they were trying to do tonight, it was hilarious. 

“It’s hardly my fault,” she protested. “Half the castle thought so!”

“Wait,” Merlin said, peering around her shoulder to look between her and Arthur. “Is that why I could never get anywhere with any of the maids? Because they all thought I was boffing the Prince?”

She petted his head and said patronisingly, “Oh, Merlin. No one ever thought you were boffing the Prince.”

It took a moment for her meaning to sink in, but then Arthur started to laugh, and said, “Merlin, I imagine you were able to get nowhere with the maids all on your own,” and Merlin said, “Oi!” and she finally began to think this might actually work. 

“Honestly,” she said. “The pair of you.” She reached out a hand to Arthur. “Come here.”

Arthur, far more relaxed now, moved to stand behind her. She smiled up at him, tilting her head back against his chest, and he leaned down for a kiss. It was a strange sensation, kissing Arthur upside down while Merlin stroked her waist and shifted restlessly beneath her. She could feel him hardening against her thigh. 

Now if she could just get them to touch _each other_. Although thinking about it, they’d never touched much outside the boundaries of Merlin’s actual job. They’d shoved and punched in boyish affection, but that was it. 

“You are both very ridiculous,” she said, and took Merlin’s hand to rest it on Arthur’s waist behind her, then took Arthur’s hand and pulled his arm over her shoulder to rest on Merlin’s. 

Arthur went stiff behind her again, although she could feel the tendons in his arm shift as he clutched Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Look,” Merlin began, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Of course,” Arthur said in his most formal voice, stepping back from them. “If you’d rather not, you are under no obligation. As Guinevere said, you can leave, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

“Or if you’d rather not,” Merlin muttered in reply, taking the wine goblet from her drinking deeply. 

“Merlin?” she asked. He shrugged and drank some more, obviously trying to avoid looking at her. She took the goblet from his hand and looked at his face. His lower lip pouted slightly, not sullen but sad. He looked forlorn.

“Oh, Merlin.” She kissed his forehead. “Arthur, I think you need to make your position on this clear,” she said firmly. 

“Do we really have to talk about feelings and what have you right now? Really, _right now_?”

“Yes, Arthur, we do. Because unless I’m much mistaken, Merlin thinks he’s here because I want a threesome, you’re reluctantly indulging me, and he’s convenient.” And if Arthur’s stunted emotional development messed this up for both of them, he would be sleeping on his own for the foreseeable future.

“Don’t be stupid, Gwen, why would he think anything that ridic-“ He had turned to face them as he spoke, and apparently Merlin looked as tense and miserable from across the room as he felt in her arms. “Merlin, you execrable _idiot_.” For a moment she contemplated just murdering Arthur and seizing the throne. She could make Merlin her consort, it would be brilliant. Then he threw her that helpless look that said he had more feelings than he knew what to do with or how to express, and she’d never been able to resist that look. So instead of murdering him, she gave him her best ‘Fix this or you will regret it’ look. 

“For the love of-“ Arthur rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air, then stalked over to them. He leaned over her, grabbed Merlin by the hair and kissed him fiercely. There didn’t look to be any finesse or technique to it, just lots of tongue and years of repressed longing finally set loose. For a moment she thought they’d forgotten about her, then Arthur’s free hand found hers without him once letting up from kissing Merlin. His fingers clung to hers as his mouth clung to Merlin’s. This was really going to happen, and it was going to be so good.

They eventually parted, both panting for breath, lips bruised and pupils blown.

Merlin leant back in the seat, in the comfortable sprawl that had been nowhere in evidence so far that evening and began fiddling with the laces in the back of Gwen’s dress. She held her breath for a moment, but all he did was run them through his fingers. “So,” he said to Arthur with a smirk, “You fancy me, eh?”

“Oh no, Merlin,” Arthur replied, taking the largely forgotten goblet out of Merlin’s hand, finishing it off and putting it down on the table behind him. “I think we should talk about how long _you’ve_ fancied _me_. 

Merlin waved his now-free hand. “Oh, forever, obviously,” he said so dismissively that it was probably truer than he wanted them to know. 

However, this was showing all the signs of leading up to one of one of their rounds of one-upmanship, which formed no part of her hopes for the evening. 

“I don’t suppose this conversation is going to end up with anyone’s clothes coming off soon, is it?” she asked, keeping her voice light and innocent. Arthur and Merlin both went still. “I only ask because- oh.” She broke off as Arthur cupped her breasts, his fingers running warm over the stiff fabric of her dress. 

She couldn’t see Arthur where he stood behind her, but she could see Merlin perfectly well, and it was clear from his face that they were having some kind of silent conversation over her head. Arthur’s fingers running over the tops of her breasts, exposed by her neckline, distracted her from trying to work out what it was. And then Merlin was tugging purposefully at the laces on her dress, the cords giving way beneath his clever fingers.

Arthur immediately shoved his hands down the loosened bodice, the sword calluses on his hands deliciously rough against her soft skin. She arched back against his chest, letting him take her weight, and Merlin’s arm tightened around her. There was something immensely secure in being bracketed between them, trusting them to make sure she wouldn’t fall. Merlin continued loosening her laces and after a moment Arthur lifted her breasts entirely free of the dress. She bit her lip as he stroked his thumbs back and forth across her nipples.

She hadn’t noticed the moment her eyes closed, but she opened them when she felt Merlin shift, arms slipping more firmly around her, and brushed his lips gently against her neck. A low sound escaped her. His mouth was hot against her skin; his hair was soft against her cheek. This was possibly even better than she’d imagined, and they’d barely begun. 

One of Arthur’s hands left her, and from Merlin’s sharp breath, must have touched him instead. He looked up at her, eyes wide, as though he weren’t really sure this was real. She smiled reassuringly at him. Arthur’s hand rested against Merlin’s cheek. His thumb swept down to soothe over Merlin’s lip in the same way as it had over her nipple. She wasn’t sure who gasped the loudest when Merlin’s tongue darted out to lap it.

Arthur’s hips rocked against her back, and she squirmed in Merlin’s lap. The two men seemed to be having a moment, just looking at each other. She couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but Merlin was giving back his very best mock-serious face, the one he always had when he was pretending to take Arthur seriously. She rather wished they would focus. 

Then Arthur pinched her nipple, hard. “Oh!” Everything inside her clenched at the sharp pleasure-pain. His other hand slipped around the back of Merlin’s head, stroking his thumb across one sharp cheekbone as it passed, and he pressed Merlin’s head down against her chest. Suddenly that beautiful mouth that she’d fantasised about for so long was open at her breast, tongue stroking over her sharply sensitised nipple.

She moaned, and pressed down against the firm warmth of Merlin’s thigh. Arthur was moving her skirts, but she couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. Not with Merlin licking and sucking and, _oh god_ , nipping at her breasts, moving from one to the other. There was a hand stroking her, caressing, she couldn’t tell whose. The uncertainty was tantalising.

Arthur crouched behind her, still taking her weight, and bit softly at her neck. She gave a moan which quickly turned into a desperate whine when Arthur’s hand finally slid beneath the layers of her petticoats and between her legs. Her head fell back against his shoulder. 

Merlin thrust his hips against her thigh like he couldn’t help it. “God, Gwen.” 

Arthur’s fingers between her legs were teasing, dancing over her, nearly pressing in, over and over until she was breathless and aching; Merlin, who she’d wanted for so long, was mouthing her breasts, and it was so much, and she was so close-

“Arthur!” she cried, then sobbed in protest as his hand moved away entirely. 

Merlin’s pupils were huge and dark in his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her. “Shhh,” he whispered against her mouth. 

She licked into his mouth and dug her nails into the skin beneath the collar of his shirt. _‘Shh’ himself._ She had been so close before bloody Arthur had-

There were hands beneath her skirt again, sliding up the length of her legs. She leant more of her weight back against Arthur and spread her thighs wider, rolling her hips in welcome. Merlin made a choked sound, his breath huffing into her mouth.

“Look at you,” Arthur murmured in her ear as he stroked his fingers, no, stroked _Merlin’s_ fingers against her slick skin. “Look at you both.”

Merlin moaned, and his mouth fell slack against hers, not kissing anymore so much as breathing against her mouth. 

Two fingers teased at her entrance and she felt herself clench and open against them. Arthur. No, Arthur, holding Merlin’s hand. Bending Merlin’s finger and pushing it against her. “Please. Arthur, Merlin, please.” She was begging and didn’t care a damn, she was so _close_. “Oh, please.”

Merlin’s head fell to her breast as he slid his finger inside her. He was panting for breath, his exhalations soft and moist on her skin. He slipped another finger in- No, Arthur slipped a finger inside. She had both of them, moving inside her, touching her together. Arthur turned his head to kiss her, and Merlin scraped his teeth over her nipple and she was there, crying out into Arthur’s mouth as her vision went white with the force of her orgasm.

When her awareness returned, Merlin was breathing heavily against her chest, and Arthur was shifting awkwardly as she lay half off Merlin’s lap. She reached for Merlin’s arm to pull herself forward, and draped herself over his chest as he leaned back in the chair. He was breathing heavily, and she was vividly aware of how hard he was beneath her legs. Arthur sat on the floor, with his head resting against her hip, and his hand beneath her skirt clutching her thigh. Merlin was stroking her hair. 

A clink behind her made her turn her head. At the table, the jug was steadily pouring wine into one of the goblets. As she watched, it righted itself and the goblet floated gently off the table towards Merlin, who plucked it neatly from the air.

She’d never quite managed to work out why this affected her so deeply, but she thought it might have to do with the contrast, the near-contradiction of sweet, friendly, helpful Merlin having the power to pull the entire world down around their ears, and at the same time having the control and the _care_ not to.

He drank deeply, then turned to offer it to her. She wasn’t sure what he read in her expression, but it was _something_.

“What?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she said and tried to take the goblet from him. 

He held it back out of reach. “I know you know I can do that. Even if I’d never done it since, you were definitely there when- you know.”

At her feet Arthur ducked his head, probably hoping no one would remember he was there, so he wouldn’t have to have this conversation. She reached down and tugged his hair. He scowled back at her and slowly, obscenely, started licking his fingers. She fought the urge to just push him over and make him pay for the tease, and focused on Merlin.

“Yes, Merlin, we know you can do that. And you quite vividly reminded us by dangling Sir Cuthbert eight feet in the air just yesterday.” 

“But-“ he tried to interrupt.

“Now, if you’d just let me have a drink,” she paused, waiting till she had his full attention, “Then we can see about doing something about _this_.” She leaned a little weight onto the hip that rested against his erection. 

His eyes fell closed, and he drew a deep breath in through his nose. “Oh, hell, Gwen,” he cursed, and ground up against her. 

She took the goblet from his hand, took a drink, and passed it to Arthur, who was shifting restlessly, presumably no better off than Merlin. 

When she looked back at Merlin he had got himself back under control, which seemed rather a shame. 

“That was mean,” he said reproachfully.

She tried her best to look remorseful as she ran her hand down his chest. “Let me make it up to you,” she said, tugging his shirt over his head. She kissed one wide sharp collarbone. “What do you want?” 

He captured her hand against his chest, holding it still. His eyes were wide and earnest. He glanced down to Arthur, then looked back at her. “I-“ He didn’t seem to know where to start. That was fair; she didn’t really, either. 

Merlin reached down and stroked his fingers gently over Arthur’s hair. Arthur’s expression was… complicated. Simultaneously put out, and a little lost. Casual touches tended to have that effect on him, and it always tugged at her heart that someone so fundamentally sweet and kind, for all he liked to cover it up, should be so surprised by gestures of affection.

She pulled Merlin’s other hand away from his chest and gently pushed it towards Arthur. Merlin understood immediately, and turned his hand palm upwards. Arthur looked between them suspiciously, but put his hand in Merlin’s.

Merlin nudged her with his shoulder, and she put her own hand out to tangle her fingers with theirs. She rested against his chest, the soft hair ticklish against her breast, and smiled at the picture they made.

“You know,” Merlin said, and she braced herself, because that was the tone of voice that usually meant he was trying to get a rise out of Arthur. “I’m pretty sure I have been prevented from enjoying the affections of a number of very nice girls over the years by the terrible misconception that I was boffing the Prince. I think-”

Arthur snorted. “You think what, Merlin? That you should ‘boff’ me? What a quaintly rustic term. ‘Boff’.”

Gwen tensed a little. It was hard sometimes to be sure when they were joking. They could sound so cruel, and Arthur was sneering as hard as he ever had before Merlin came along. 

“Well…” Merlin mused, keeping a wary eye on Arthur.

Arthur knelt up, leaning over her and staring intently up at Merlin. “Do you want to 'boff' me, Merlin?” Arthur didn't give him a chance to answer, just leaned closer so the hard line of his body pressed her into Merlin's chest. “Do you want to _screw_ me,” he asked, breathing the question over Merlin's lips. 

Merlin looked like he couldn’t have answered, anyway. Arthur was nose to nose with him, looking at him like he wanted to crawl inside of him, and Merlin looked like he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. The sheer intensity of it was enough to make Gwen feel breathless. 

“Do you want,” Arthur paused and licked at Merlin’s open mouth, and Merlin and Gwen both gasped, “To spread me out, open me up, and _fuck me_ till neither of us remember our names?” 

The silence was thick with desire. Gwen sometimes thought these two could give her whiplash, the way they changed moods. The atmosphere had gone from sweet, to mocking, to… this. Challenging and entirely, explicitly sexual. Merlin flexed his fingers, where she and Arthur still held them. She squeezed back. 

“Yes,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur turned his head to look at her, and Merlin’s gaze followed. She licked her lips where her mouth had gone dry. “Yes,” she said. 

Arthur looked back at Merlin, that tiny but so very real half smile quirking his lips. “Well then.” 

She had no idea how they got to the bed, who pushed, who pulled, only that Merlin was finally naked, and she could touch him. Licking a small pink nipple made him gasp, as did a gently tug on the fine hairs leading down to the dark patch that surrounded his beautiful cock. It was long and thicker than she’d thought, and she couldn’t resist touching it, running her fingers up the length, dancing them over the head. 

He grabbed her wrist. “Oh god, Gwen, don’t, or I swear I’ll come all over your hand.” His eyes were a little wild, and she thought he must be close. It was so tempting to just do it, to watch him come undone at the simplest touch of her hand, but they’d agreed. Next time. And of course there would be a next time. There was no way any of them could walk away from this. Not now. 

Her dress slipped down to the floor as Arthur released the rest of her laces, and she shimmied out of her petticoats. She grabbed the bottom one and shoved it down the side of the bed to deal with later. There was no way she was letting the castle laundresses see it. 

Arthur was still dressed, albeit decidedly dishevelled. He also looked extremely distracted by all the naked skin in front of him.

She caught Merlin’s eye and grinned at him quickly, before ducking behind Arthur, reaching around him and undoing the laces on his breeches. Merlin quickly stepped in front and had the shirt off him in seconds. 

“You never used to be that efficient,” Arthur sniped, albeit somewhat breathlessly.

Merlin leaned in against Arthur, chest to chest. “You clearly never offered the right incentives.”

They paused a moment, pressed together, enjoying the feel of skin on skin. She rubbed a soothing hand over the blade of Arthur’s hipbone, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then pushed him toward the bed. He pulled Merlin, and the two of them went tumbling down. 

They looked amazing together. Merlin’s sleek dark strength against Arthur’s golden brawn. They wrestled a little, unable to do even this without turning it into challenge and answer. She reached into the little hidden shelf tucked behind the headboard and pulled out the glass jar of oil they kept there. She sat down next to them on the edge of the bed and opened it. The gentle familiar pop of the cork drew Arthur’s attention. Arthur’s distraction drew Merlin’s. 

She passed him the jar, and shoved at Arthur’s shoulder till he rolled onto his back. 

Merlin stared at the half empty jar and raised his eyebrows. 

“We’ve…” she glanced at Arthur, who flushed again, but shrugged, “…experimented,” she managed. 

Merlin grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed. “Oh, _god_ ,” he groaned, and took some deep breaths. He handed the jar back to her. “Show me,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than she’d ever heard it. 

Arthur threw an arm over his face and spread his legs a little. “Oh fuck.” His cock was dark red and already leaking against his belly.

She squeezed the inside of one of Arthur’s thighs a little. He nodded into the crook of his arm and bent one knee up a little.

  


Merlin slumped back against the bedpost at the foot of the bed, wondering if it was actually possible to die from sex. He was pretty sure there wasn’t enough blood in his brain because it was all in his dick, and he was definitely finding it hard to breathe.

Gwen coated her fingers in the oil with a practiced ease that did nothing to help his breathing situation. 

God, she was beautiful. She was kneeling next to Arthur’s hip, a pose that emphasised the flare of her hips, the swell of her arse, the gentle curve of her belly. Her hair fell down around her shoulders, mussed and wild in a way he’d never seen before. She stoppered the jar and handed it to him with a smile. 

Arthur was, in his own way, also beautiful, laid out like an offering. His legs spread, his balls hanging soft and dark between them, his dick curving a hard red line against his stomach, his arm flung across his eyes. He would have been the picture of abandonment if he wasn’t so clearly tense. The muscles in his legs were bunched, the hand that dangled next to his head clenched in a fist over and over, and his Adam’s apple, that instrument of temptation, was bobbing up and down, prominent against the curve of his throat. 

Merlin really hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts.

Gwen slid her hand up the inside of Arthur’s thigh in a move weirdly not dissimilar to gentling a nervous horse. She nudged her fingers behind Arthur’s balls and stroked at the soft skin there. His nostrils flared with the deep breath he drew in, and he pushed his hips into the touch. 

It suddenly occurred to Merlin that at least some of the tension wasn’t nerves, but anticipation, and he had to bite his hand to stop himself making the kind of noise Arthur would never let him live down. Concentrating on the sharp sting helped keep him from drowning in the sheer flood of sensation and arousal. He’d been not less than half hard since his mortifying but fruitful conversation with Gwen that morning, but he was damned if he was going to waste this opportunity on his hand, not when both objects of his affections were naked and seemed, at least for now, to genuinely want him.

Gwen was teasing, much as Arthur had been teasing her earlier, playing her fingers over the dusky skin of his arsehole, smearing the oil around it in a shiny mess, but not actually breaching him. 

“Gwen,” Arthur all but growled, low and gravelly, and Merlin had to think very hard about what a travesty it would be to come without either of them actually touching his dick. “I swear to god, if you don’t- ah!” 

Arthur arched almost entirely off the bed, his body forming one gorgeous long curve, and Merlin realised that Gwen had started straight off with two fingers. She just held them there while Arthur pushed back against her hand, breathing heavily while he got used to the stretch.

After a moment Gwen smiled at Merlin and started moving her hand. Inside Arthur. Where she was stretching him out for Merlin to fuck. And even if they all woke up in the morning and realised they’d made a terrible and embarrassing mistake, he would have his memories of this to keep himself warm for the rest of his life. 

Arthur was moaning quietly and shoving his hips against Gwen’s hand, where she was working a third finger in. Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to do. He wanted, _god_ , he wanted to touch. The tight muscles of Arthur’s belly, the soft curve of Gwen’s breast, anything, _everything_. But he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed. 

He was startled by a foot bumping against his knee. And realised that Arthur was kicking him. 

Arthur peered out from under the arm still resting across his face. “Are you- ah. Are you going to stay over there all night?”

Gwen snorted and poked Arthur in the side with her free hand, and he made a strange sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Then she pulled her fingers from Arthur and lay down, nestled against his side. 

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s foot and pressed a kiss against his ankle. “Hardly,” he said, and rolled forward onto his hands and knees. 

It was a little disconcerting having the two of them watching him so intently. At first he felt awkward and ungainly, crawling up the bed. But Arthur’s chest was heaving and Gwen was biting her lip, and they both looked… _hungry_. So he played it a little. Leaned down to kiss one lightly haired thigh, stroked his hand up Gwen’s calf as he moved his hand up, licked the hard curve of Arthur’s hipbone. 

Gwen and Arthur were holding hands, clinging to each other like they were afraid of being lost in a storm. And Merlin was the storm. It was a heady notion, to think that he had so much power here, that they thought he could take them apart in the same way as they were doing to him. He paused, knelt between Arthur’s spread thighs and looked at his dick, thought about licking it. It would be hot. Hot and smooth beneath his tongue.

Arthur covered himself, not quite touching, but shielding himself from view. “Don’t,” he said. 

Merlin jerked back. Had he overstepped? Was he not supposed to-

“I can’t-“ Arthur blurted out. “Not right now.”

Merlin realised that Arthur’s hand was shaking. He must be as close to the edge as Merlin was. 

He kissed the back of Arthur’s hand instead, and kept crawling up the bed. He crawled until he was face to face with Arthur, whose eyes had the barest rim of blue around the shot black pupils. His mouth was red and swollen, and Merlin couldn’t resist kissing him. He’d spent a lot of years trying not to wonder what it would be like to kiss that expressive mouth and he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity now. 

The ache in his balls was the only thing that stopped him getting lost in the kiss. It was gentler than anything he’d have expected from Arthur, welcoming, no hint of competition. He thought that given the chance he could spend a long time doing nothing but kiss Arthur. 

But Arthur’s hips were twitching, looking for pressure, relief, and Gwen was dropping kisses on both their shoulders, though she looked content enough doing it. 

Merlin pulled back and lowered his body into the cradle of Arthur’s thighs. “Ready?”

“You have no idea,” Arthur retorted, a little shakily. 

“Well then,” Merlin said, for lack of anything better to say, lined himself up and pressed forward, easing inside through the slick oil Gwen had worked into Arthur’s body.

It was nothing like being inside a woman. Even stretched out, there was resistance, and then suddenly he was through, and Arthur’s body was clenching tight around him, tighter than anything he’d felt before. 

One of them cried out, a deep hurt sound, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d made it, or Arthur. 

He froze in place, eyes squeezed shut, trying not to move or come. He rubbed his face against Arthur’s chest in place of moving his hips, focussing on the rough scrape of Arthur’s chest hair against his cheek, the way it caught in the stubble on his own chin. 

Gwen was stroking his back, slow gentle sweeps, soothing. Arthur was taut as a crossbow string beneath him, and shaking. He flung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and clung, his hand clutching so tight Merlin could almost feel his bones creak.

After a moment Arthur relaxed. The pressure around his dick lessened minutely, and it got a little easier to breathe.

“Are you- Does it hurt?” he asked. It was probably a stupid question, but he was _inside Arthur_ , so he thought he was doing pretty well to manage actual speech. 

Arthur shifted, a testing movement of his hips that made Merlin bite back a whimper.

“A little.” Arthur’s voice was rough. He took a deep breath and thrust his hips a tiny bit. “I like it,” he added. 

Self control was a wonderful thing, but Merlin really thought this was pushing the bounds of what could reasonably be asked of a man. He shoved forward and Arthur grunted. 

“Do that again,” Arthur demanded. Far be it from Merlin to refuse a royal command, or at least not one so close to what he wanted to do anyway, so he thrust again, and again. Arthur wrapped one strong thigh around Merlin’s hips, spreading himself wider, but in the thrust and counter-thrust of their hips his leg kept slipping, and he grunted in frustration. 

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s leg and pushed it over his shoulder. He cupped his hands under Arthur’s arse, and tried not to get distracted by how perfectly it fit his hands. He pulled Arthur’s hips forward and leaned into his thrust.

Arthur shouted, looked surprised. “Oh fuck, what? Do that again. Do it- Do- Fuck,” he babbled. So Merlin did it again. They fell into a rhythm, quick and hard, drawing grunts from Arthur and almost pained moans from Merlin. 

Gwen, he’d almost forgotten Gwen, caught his eye and leaned up to whisper something in Arthur’s ear. 

Whatever it was was too much for Arthur. Everything in his body went tight. His fingers clenched into Merlin’s shoulder like he was trying to dig in and never let go, his back arched, and the muscles around Merlin’s dick squeezed tight.

It was more than Merlin could take. He was only vaguely aware of Arthur shouting his name over the roaring in his ears as his own orgasm finally, finally thundered through him.

The first thing he was really conscious of was being petted. Gwen was carding her fingers though his hair and murmuring softly about her beautiful boys. It felt nice. Arthur’s legs were cradling his sides and his face was tucked against Merlin’s shoulder. That was nice, too.

He lay there for a few minutes with his eyes closed, just enjoying the afterglow, weary and well-used, and wrapped up with the people he, god help him, loved. 

Then he started to wonder what he was supposed to do next. Should he get off Arthur? Get up, thank them and leave? Plaster himself to them and refuse to ever let go? Were there rules for sleeping with two of your best friends? How did you find out? Why hadn’t he tried to find out _before_ he ended up here in this bed he never wanted to leave, frantically wondering if he was missing something.

Arthur huffed and muttered against shoulder, “You know, for someone as bulky as a twig, you are a great heavy lump.” Followed by, “Oof,” as Gwen poked him in the side.

“You’re no lightweight yourself, your Majesty,” she teased.

There was an awkward pause, before he realised that they were waiting for him to say something rude about Arthur’s weight. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Normally he’d have been quick to join in, but there was nothing normal about any of this, and he didn’t know what to do.

  


Arthur had been feeling good, just drifting in the relaxed warmth of a good, _really_ good, orgasm and the comfort of being held close by the two people he loved most. And then Merlin, naturally, had to go and ruin it all. Arthur could feel him getting more and more tense.

He’d tried making fun of him - that usually worked. He’d say something mean and Merlin would snap out of whatever funk he was in to retaliate. Gwen had picked up the cue, but Merlin had just lain there, lost in whatever was going on in that ridiculous head of his. Which was actually quite offensive, given that he was still _inside_ Arthur. It really didn’t seem _unreasonable_ to expect Merlin’s full attention. 

He glanced at Gwen, who was looking concerned. He ran one hand down Merlin’s back, enjoying the smooth, if slightly sweaty, warmth of his skin while he had one of those peculiar eyebrows-only conversations he seemed to have developed with Gwen. He’d try again, and if he couldn’t get anything out of him, Gwen might have to intervene. He still had at least one trick up his sleeve. 

“It seems,” he addressed Gwen, “that I am so spectacular in bed that I have left Merlin speechless.” He waited a moment in which Merlin failed to respond before adding, “Of course, it should be no surprise that I’m the best he’s ever had.” 

That did get a response, but not one he wanted. Merlin raised himself onto his elbows and pulled out of Arthur. He was obviously trying to be gentle, but Arthur couldn’t quite repress a noise of discomfort at the sting. 

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered, completely avoiding meeting their eyes as he moved toward the edge of the bed. 

“Right, that’s it. What on earth is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” Merlin blatantly lied. “I just thought maybe you’d like to get some sleep.”

Arthur stared somewhat incredulously at Merlin’s back. “Yes, Merlin,” he said. “I think you should pick up your things and go back to your own rooms so that Gwen and I can get some sleep.”

“Arthur,” Gwen said, with a warning note in her voice, as though she thought he meant it.

Merlin’s shoulders hunched miserably and he stared down at his hands. “Oh,” he said, like the gormless fool he was. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he sneered. “Shut up and come here.” He grabbed Merlin by the waist and rolled him into the space between him and Gwen. 

“Oof! Careful!” Merlin complained.

Arthur rolled in behind him, and suddenly became very conscious of the sticky mess still on his stomach, and a dull ache accompanied by an unpleasant slipperiness in his arse and down his thighs. “Urgh, can’t you do something about this?”

Merlin looked up from where Gwen was nuzzling him and making insulted sad puppy eyes, and said, “You do realise that cleaning up after you isn’t actually my job any more, don’t you?”

“Merlin, unless you really want me to call for George right now, I suggest you succumb to a sudden fit of nostalgia,” he said, poking Merlin in the kidneys for emphasis. And to annoy him, which he richly deserved for being such a complete idiot. “Anyway, it’s all up your back now. So you should definitely do something about it.”

Merlin looked back at him with a much more satisfactory expression of disbelief and mild horror. “You really are an awful person, aren’t you?”

“An awful person who will be sticking to you in the morning if you don’t hurry up and do something about it.” He smirked. “Or I can still call George.”

Gwen started giggling a bit madly, and kissed Merlin’s cheek. “Darling, you know it’s not going to be worth the complaining in the morning.”

Merlin flushed deeply, across his lovely cheekbones and right up his ears. “Well, all right,” Merlin mumbled. Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Merlin bashful before. It made something tighten peculiarly in his chest. 

With a flash of golden eyes the washbasin and the washcloth floated towards the bed. Merlin grabbed them both from the air and muttered a spell that made the water steam gently. Gwen reached for the washcloth.

“Wait!” Merlin said, clutching the washbasin to his chest. “I just need to check the temperature of the water,” he said defensively when they both looked at him strangely.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s fine, Merlin. Stop being such an old woman.”

“That’s not what you said last time I got distracted and nearly boiled you alive,” Merlin retorted. 

“What are you talking ab-“ Suddenly he remembered. He’d scalded his foot badly, and thrown cold water at Merlin. “You were enchanting my _bathwater_? Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed?” Arthur would never ever say it out loud, but it terrified him every time he found out another of the casual and stupid ways Merlin had used his magic over the years of Uther’s ban; how easily he could have been caught; how close he was _all the time_ to getting himself executed.

“So I will check the temperature of the water,” Merlin concluded, magnificently ignoring the point.

“It’s lovely and warm, Merlin,” said Gwen, who had checked it while they were arguing and was briskly washing her chest. 

“Gwen!” Merlin yelled, grabbing at the cloth. “What part of ‘boiling alive’ wasn’t clear?”

She let it go without a fight. “The part where it was relevant to us cleaning up and getting some rest tonight. Can I have a towel, please?”

It took some arguing, and summoning of various items, and no, Arthur was not being overly fussy when he insisted on fresh water in the bowl, given that Gwen and Merlin had already used it to wash with, but eventually they lay in the dark together. There seemed to be too many arms in the bed, and their legs were hopelessly tangled. Arthur was pressed as tightly as he could be to Merlin’s back, and Merlin’s hair was getting up his nose. It was perfect. 

He was just beginning to doze off when Merlin asked, “So, what are you going to tell the next lord who accuses you of being seduced by my dark powers?” 

Gwen began to fake sob into Merlin’s shoulder. “Sleep!”

“You still haven’t done any actual seduction, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur reached up and tugged Merlin’s ear. “Gwen invited you here. All you had to do was show up.” 

Merlin shoved an elbow back at Arthur’s stomach. How did he have such pointy elbows? “I don’t know. It looks to me like I got invited here precisely _because_ you were both seduced by my dark powers-“ 

“Would you stop saying ‘dark powers’.”

“Would you both _stop talking_ ,” Gwen interrupted, “And go to sleep before I smother you both and claim the throne for myself.”

“Sorry Gwen,” Merlin immediately replied, like a great big kiss-arse. Arthur tugged Merlin’s ear again, just to have the final word, then settled down with his nose pressed into Merlin’s nape, his arm draping over Merlin to curve his hand to Gwen’s warm hip.

***

While it was true that George was probably one of the most boring people Arthur had ever spoken to in years of Council meetings and diplomatic visits, he was also wonderfully discreet. Upon finding the door locked, not for the first time but probably for the most important, he knocked and asked, “Sire?”

There was no demanding entry, or mysteriously, and probably magically, bursting in through the locked door. When Arthur told him to fetch a larger than usual breakfast and come back in half an hour, he simply acquiesced. Obviously it was nowhere near as entertaining, but a midnight woodworm check would have been extremely uncomfortable for all concerned. 

By the time he returned they were all fully dressed, although Merlin was still wearing his clothes from the day before. From his studied nonchalance it was clear he had a fair idea what was going on, but was far too professional to acknowledge it in any way. As soon as he was gone Arthur took great delight in comparing Merlin to George extremely unfavourably, just to see if Merlin would make that ‘prim maiden aunt’ face. He did. Then Gwen shoved a slice of apple between his lips and it all nearly turned into a food fight.

Arthur’s arse stung, his hips and thighs burned with the strain of being bent in unfamiliar ways, and his lower back ached, but after being eased into his armour by his wife and his… whatever, Merlin, he couldn’t think of a day he’d gone to drill in a better mood.

Every so often he forgot himself and began to swagger, although it didn’t last more than a couple of steps before he stopped.

In the practice yard, he ran everyone through some drills, refusing to let his discomfort show in his movements. After a while the activity seemed to ease the ache in his muscles. What bothered him more were the looks he kept getting from Gwaine, who seemed to have reached his own conclusions and was looking shocked and outraged, which seemed very strange expressions on Gwaine’s face.

When they broke for a drink, Gwaine headed for the far side of the field, away from where the squires had water and cups for the knights. So much the better – Arthur would rather not have an audience for this conversation. He was used to Gwaine being a disrespectful ruffian, but he was damned if he’d let the man upset Merlin over this. He was still half way across the field when Gwaine was intercepted by Percy. Gwaine crossed his arms and scowled, but Percy just smiled serenely. Arthur pretended to be concerned with a rough patch of ground, and just watched. 

Gwaine was in denial about _something_. He was arguing vociferously and waving his arms in the air. He even went so far as to jab a finger at Percy’s chest, which must have really hurt his finger. Percy just shook his head, and after another few moments of Gwaine’s theatrics, held out his hand.

As Arthur poked at the turf with his boot, trying to look busy, Gwaine, with an enormous pout, handed over a purse. Percy clapped him firmly on the shoulder and turned to head back to the other knights, tossing the purse in the air and catching it a few times. 

“Cheers, Arthur,” he called as he passed. 

Arthur frowned and looked at Gwaine, who pouted back at him, before tossing his hair back, shrugging, and jogging after Percy. As he reached Arthur he slowed down and grinned wickedly. 

“I have to say, Princess, I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Arthur didn’t think his expression changed, but Gwaine burst out laughing. “So to speak, mate! So to speak.” He patted Arthur’s shoulder through the pauldron and wandered off, cackling. 

Arthur stomped on the clod of turf he’d been poking, and followed. Gwen and Merlin had joined the crowd around the squires. Gwaine had already cornered Merlin and was nudging him in the ribs. Merlin was blushing right up to the tips of his ears.

Suddenly, Arthur flashed back to the night of the feast and realised that he knew what had made Merlin blush so vividly then.

“Everyone get back on the field,” he shouted. “Gwaine.” He unsheathed his sword and twirled it. It was flashy, he knew, but a little bit of showing off never hurt. “Stop playing with Merlin and come and show us what you’ve got.”

Gwaine strolled toward Arthur, hands spread in a gesture that would have been conciliatory were it not for the smug grin on his face.

“Awww, are you the only one who gets to play with Merlin now, Princess? Well,” he paused to lean in close to Arthur. “ _Ones_.” He attempted to nudge Arthur in the ribs. 

Arthur blocked him with the flat of his blade, and used his off hand to twist Gwaine’s arm up behind his back. A quick tap to the back of the knee had Gwaine sprawling facedown on the ground. 

Arthur looked over to where the knights stood around the fence laughing, and Gwen and Merlin, side by side, whispered to each other much as they’d always done, but somehow more. His.

“Can you blame him, if that’s the best you can do?” he taunted Gwaine. “Now get up and fight properly, you lazy pillock.”

He was tired and sore, and he’d never felt stronger, more confident - as though he could take on all of Albion and win. For now, though, he’d settle for Gwaine.

  
**END**  



End file.
